


Credence and the Dragon Slayer

by SweetSorcery



Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Carrying, Credence is the Damsel, Damsels in Distress, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Empathy, Falling In Love, First Kiss, First Meetings, Flirting, Happy Ending, Healing, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Kinktober, Kinktober 2018, M/M, Male Slash, Mutual Pining, Non-Sexual Submission, Pining, Protective Original Percival Graves, Protectiveness, Rescue, Romance, Sappy, Sappy Ending, Slash, Soul Bond, Strength Kink, Threats of Rape/Non-Con
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-13
Updated: 2018-10-13
Packaged: 2019-08-01 06:40:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,069
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16279589
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SweetSorcery/pseuds/SweetSorcery
Summary: On the day Credence first meets Mr Graves, his life changes forever. Because Mr Graves is rather special... and so is Credence.(Note: Extremely brief threat at the beginning, and threat only - not between pairing. Also villain disposal, if that actually worries you. NO Grindelwald, at any point, in this alternate canon.)





	Credence and the Dragon Slayer

**Author's Note:**

> Written for **Kinktober 2018**. For all that, this would be more suited to Saptober, if there was such a thing. Really, I'm not kidding, if you don't like sappy, avoid. :)
> 
> Day 9 Prompt used: **Strength Kink**  
>  Day 10 Prompt used: **Bonds (Telepathic or Empathic)**

Credence got himself cornered in one of the filthiest back alleys of the city. The two men in front of him were looking at him in a way that left him unsure whether they intended to kill him or commit terrible acts of depravity with him. He thought being killed would be better. Ma would blame him for the latter. For the former too, most likely, but he wouldn't be there to be punished for it.

He had no more than felt one large, dirty hand at his throat, shoving him back against the wall behind, when there was a sudden loud crack near him, and another man appeared out of thin air. There was a flurry of strange words being shouted, stranger lights and noises, and his two assailants were lying on opposite sides of the alley, flung against the walls with their necks at angles that looked very painful, though they didn't look awake to feel the pain. Litter was blowing gently around their sprawled legs, and an uncaring cat pranced across the groin of one of them.

Credence was clutching his throat, crouching on the ground and trying to get his breath back. The man left standing held out his right hand to him, and Credence took it without hesitation. 

That was how he met Mr Graves.

Mr Graves did not just help him to stand up. When Credence lost his balance halfway back to his feet, he wrapped his arms around his middle and drew him up and against his broad chest so firmly, Credence felt as if he might never stumble again.

"Did they hurt you?" Mr Graves asked, slowly releasing him, but keeping one hand on Credence's upper arm to steady him. He had a deep, calm voice, even after all that shouting he had done.

Credence started to say, "No," but coughed, then put a hand to the back of his head where it had hit the wall. The coughing had given him an instant headache.

"Let me see that," Mr Graves said, moving behind him.

Credence didn't move or dare to breathe while gentle fingers parted the hair at the back of his head, examining his scalp.

"You might get quite a lump there, if I don't do something about it." Mr Graves placed his palm on the sore spot and spoke a soft word Credence didn't understand. The back of his head glowed warm, and the pain was gone. Just like that.

"Thank you," Credence said, awed.

Mr Graves was still running his hand through his hair. Maybe he was making sure there was nothing else wrong. "You're with those people handing out anti-witchcraft leaflets," Mr Graves said, sounding tense.

"Yes, my ma makes us help her. She wants to stamp out the evils of witchcraft."

Mr Graves snorted. "She'd spend her time more wisely stamping out the evils of religion."

"Sir?" Credence asked, confused.

Mr Graves didn't clarify, but he was in front of him again and lifted Credence's chin.

Credence stared into his eyes. Mr Graves had kind eyes - dark and soothing, like the sweet-smelling chocolate he'd seen people drink, or a stew fresh off the stove, or fire. Yes, he had eyes like fire - not the kind that destroyed, but the kind that warmed you and made you feel at home and made your face glow hot if you got too close.

Mr Graves gave him an odd half-smile; probably because he was blushing furiously. Credence couldn't help it. No one had ever looked at him like that. Mr Graves had nice teeth, and soft-looking lips, and he wore such elegant clothes. In fact, Mr Graves looked rather handsome all over.

"I've never seen anyone like you in an awful place like this," Credence said.

Mr Graves looked surprised. "Anyone like me?"

"You look so..." Credence never found the right words when he needed them. They'd come to him hours later. "Nice," was the word he eventually chose, but that wasn't nearly right.

Mr Graves gazed at him as if he was looking at something deep inside Credence that no one had ever even thought to look for. His lips were smiling softly. Mr Graves looked at once kind and intimidating. He wasn't bulky, but he looked strong and capable. He had helped Credence up as if he weighed nothing. Credence wondered what it would be like to be held in Mr Graves' strong arms for more than those few seconds, like a child, or someone he cared for very much.

"I'm not sure anyone has ever called me 'nice' before." Mr Graves looked amused. "So, thank you. What's your name?"

"Credence, sir."

"Hmm. My name is Percival Graves." Mr Graves released Credence's chin, and took his left hand instead, as if to shake it, which made Credence wince. Mr Graves lifted the hand up and stared at the many crisscrossing marks all over the palm and fingers. "Your mother's handiwork?" he guessed, his jaw tight.

Credence nodded. He tried to withdraw his hand, embarrassed about having needed punishment so frequently, but Mr Graves would not release it. Instead, he gently ran the fingers of his other hand across the marks. The strap marks simply vanished, along with the pain. Just as he had vanished the pain in his head before. Credence could only stare.

"Ma says only Jesus can heal people. She must be wrong. Are you... are you an angel, Mr Graves?"

Mr Graves blinked at him, then he laughed. It was a pleasant, soft laugh. "First I'm nice, and now an angel? What a dear boy you are."

Credence flushed a deep red, ducking his head.

"No, _I'm_ certainly no angel." That was said quietly, but in a voice which sounded somehow deeper than before.

When Credence looked up, scrambling for something to say, all he could think of was, "How did you know I needed help?"

Mr Graves looked suddenly stern. "I overheard those men talking about you, after you tried to give them your leaflets."

"I think they were going to kill me." Credence sighed, as if that would have been an inconvenience, nothing more.

"No, boy, that's not what they had in mind with you. Something worse." Mr Graves was clenching his jaw, and his fists were balled up tightly at his sides.

"Sodomy, you mean, sir?"

"You know about that, do you?" Mr Graves looked a little surprised, then his face cleared with understanding. "I imagine your mother has told you about it, and about how evil it invariably is." When Credence nodded, he added, "No sexual act is evil if it's done with someone you love and care for, and who feels the same about you. Everything is evil if it's forced on someone unwilling."

The words seemed so straightforward and simple and, try as he might, Credence could not fault the logic behind them. He concluded that Mr Graves had not only healing hands, but great wisdom.

"Ma has told me I must not look at men the way I do, that I incite them to sin. I don't really know what she means."

Mr Graves sighed. "Look at me, Credence." He waited until the boy's eyes met his. "Everyone is responsible for his own actions. And it's not your fault, nor your _sin_ , that you're beautiful."

Credence's eyes widened. "I am not--"

"You certainly are." Mr Graves cupped his face. "No one with eyes could not find you beautiful." He brushed his thumbs over Credence's cheekbones. "That gives no one the right to take from you what you don't willingly offer. And it's not an offer to look at someone demurely and with open curiosity in your eyes."

Mr Graves held his face as if he was afraid of breaking him, but also of letting go. Ma had called him ugly as sin more than once. Perhaps... perhaps sin was not ugly at all? Perhaps all the sexual acts... Credence blushed... that Mr Graves vaguely referred to were really beautiful as well. He wanted to ask him to explain them to him, but he didn't dare.

Even looking at Mr Graves felt sinful. More sinful than anything he'd ever done. The lightest touch of those hands made him shiver. The way Mr Graves looked at him made him feel hot all over. He wondered if Mr Graves thought of sexual acts when he looked at him. It was an idea that sent a thrill up and down Credence's spine and made him shiver.

"You're very different from anyone I know," Credence told Mr Graves a little unsteadily.

"That I can easily believe." Mr Graves laughed softly. His laughter felt like a summer breeze on Credence's lips, and he must have done something embarrassing like whine or moan softly, because Mr Graves let go of his face quickly and stepped back. "We should leave here," he said. "You look cold, Credence, and as if you could use a good meal."

"I'm fine, sir, really." Credence couldn't possibly impose on this kind man to such an extent. Although both those statements were true, he certainly felt a lot less cold since Mr Graves had appeared.

"Well, let's get you something warming to drink, and maybe a hot dog, at least."

Credence felt uncomfortable. "I have no money, sir."

Mr Graves snorted. "I'm sure I can spring for a snack and a hot chocolate, Credence." When Credence smiled, he took his arm and began to steer him away down the alley.

"Oh. What about those two men? Do you think they'll be all right?"

Mr Graves stared at him in disbelief. "You amaze me, Credence. You really are too good for this world. Someone needs to look after you." When Credence looked awkward, he said, "Those are not men, Credence, they're not even animals." He glanced at them over his shoulder. "Don't worry about them. They'll never again try to mistreat you or anyone else."

Credence paled. "You don't mean... did you--"

"Let's go to the park, shall we?" Mr Graves said, and slung an arm around him.

And then the whole world turned into a maelstrom of confusion for Credence, and he stumbled back into normality in the middle of Central Park, which he knew to be a rather long walk away. He would consider this fact as troublesome, once he regained his equilibrium. Right then, he simply expected to hit the hard footpath, but instead found himself floating up in the air.

"I'm so sorry, Credence, I should have warned you," Mr Graves said, right next to his ear.

And Credence realised he was in Mr Graves' arms, held securely around his waist and behind his knees. He put his hands around Mr Graves' neck and held on.

"You looked as if you were going to pass out." Mr Graves said, looking around. "If I can find a bench nearby, I'll set you down on it until you can recover."

"No, I'm fine... here." Credence blushed furiously. He honestly didn't know whether to suddenly somehow jump from one part of the city to another had made him dizzier, or whether it was being held in those wonderful strong arms. He could not help but think of a book of illustrated fairy tales Modesty had found once. In it had been a picture of a knight carrying a princess in his arms. In the background had been a slain dragon.

"Oh, you are, are you?" Mr Graves laughed. When Credence smiled a little sheepishly, he said, "Well, I think I've unbalanced you enough for now. I'm going to carry you to that bridge over there, and I'll put you down on the pillar at the end of it, so I can get you something to eat and drink, all right?"

"You're not going to leave me here, are you, Mr Graves? It's an awful long way back home. How..." Credence gulped. "How did we get here?"

"That's something I'll explain to you another time. And of course I won't leave you, Credence."

Credence's heart pounded. Mr Graves wanted to see him again. That thought made him feel better about arriving at the pillar Mr Graves had indicated, and on which he set him down.

"There's a food stand just over there. I'll be right back," Mr Graves told him, and Credence nodded.

He watched the man stride over to the stall, beautiful dark coat swaying like a cloak, and order. Credence breathed in the fresh autumn air - smelling of wind and trees and damp grass - and listened to birdsong. It was extremely rare that he found himself somewhere so clean and refreshing, and he quickly began to feel less nauseous. He wondered if the slight dizziness he had been feeling since Mr Graves had rescued him would ever go away. He wasn't even sure he wanted it to, if it resulted in ending up in Mr Graves' arms once in a while.

When Mr Graves returned, he handed a thick paper cup of steaming hot chocolate to Credence, and a hot dog in a wrapper. 

"Thank you. I've never had this," Credence said.

"Which of them?" Mr Graves frowned.

"Either."

Now Mr Graves looked almost annoyed, and Credence wished he hadn't said anything. He quickly bit into the sausage, and mustard instantly trickled from his mouth. He tried to lick it away, but his tongue couldn't reach so far down his chin, and he had no hand free.

Mr Graves' face relaxed and he laughed. "Here, let me." He swiped the mustard away with the edge of his index finger and then licked it off.

Credence stared at him, wide-eyed. "That was in my mouth."

"Yes, it was." Mr Graves simply said, looking at him with his dark eyes. He looked amused.

Credence sipped his hot chocolate carefully, and couldn't hold back the moan of pleasure at the taste. 

"I guess you like that a lot." Mr Graves' voice sounded husky. "What about the food?"

"It's nice, but I really like this." Credence lifted the cup a little.

"May I try?"

Credence nodded. Expecting the cup to be taken from his hand, he was surprised when Mr Graves' hand merely closed over his and directed the cup to his lips. He took a tiny sip.

"Delicious."

"Would you like more?" Credence offered.

"No, thank you. If that's your first hot chocolate, I'm not having more than a taste of it. It's all yours."

Credence smiled. He enjoyed the sweet heat almost as much as the soft look in Mr Graves' eyes. "Why are you being so nice to me, Mr Graves?" he asked curiously.

Mr Graves leaned an elbow on the pillar next to him. He looked up at Credence for a minute or so at least, clearly composing his words carefully. "For several reasons, Credence. For one thing, you've had a bad time, and clearly not just today." At this, Credence lowered his eyes, unable to deny it. "For another, I think you desperately need someone to confide in. Someone who won't judge you, or punish you, or abuse you in any way."

Credence blinked, suppressing tears. He almost wished he hadn't asked. Mr Graves' kindness was almost more than he could bear; he wondered if he deserved it. Then, a moment later, he was glad he had asked, because what Mr Graves said next was entirely unexpected.

"The reason I sought you out in the first place is even more personal."

Credence hardly dared to breathe. "It is?"

Mr Graves assessed his reactions carefully. "Tell me, Credence, do you share your mother's views on witchcraft?"

That question was rather unexpected, and Credence blinked. He thought about it for a moment. "I... I don't really know, Mr Graves. I have never met anyone who could do magic."

"Yes, you have, Credence." Mr Graves smiled. "And I'm glad you've not made up your mind based on what she's told you."

"I have?" Credence stared at him. He had barely heard the second part of what Mr Graves had said. He was thinking of Mr Graves' healing hands, the lights, the strange words, the two men... He gulped. He thought of the way they had been in that horrible alley one moment and in Central Park the next. "Oh!" he gasped.

Mr Graves waited patiently for him to make up his mind.

Credence looked at the kindest person he had ever met, the only one to ever protect him. "I believe that ma is very wrong," he said firmly. He had never before said a thing like that out loud. There was no bolt of lightning striking him down.

"I'm proud of you, Credence," Mr Graves said, with a smile that caused Credence's heart to give a little jolt. "There's something else." Mr Graves' eyes held Credence's, as if whatever he was going to say next would be easier that way, or as if he thought Credence might run away if he didn't hold him in place.

"Even more?" Credence asked.

Nodding, Mr Graves said, "Very rarely, magical people will become aware of a bond between them. This bond can be dormant for many years and will make itself known only when there is a need for it and close physical proximity. Sometimes, it takes the form of a telepathic bond, and those affected can read each other's thoughts. We can all do so, if we have learned something called Legilimency, but it is incredibly easy with a telepathic bond."

He gave Credence a moment to digest this, then continued, "And there is another kind of bond - an empathic one. That means we can sense each other's emotions. I believe among non-magical people, this is thought of as a soul mate bond."

"Oh, that sounds... nice."

Mr Graves smiled. "It is. Except... Well, it also means we can feel when the other is in pain or... danger." He let that sink in, but Credence just looked distraught.

"That's terrible."

"Yes and no. It means we can help each other." Mr Graves looked at him searchingly. "Credence, such a bond usually awakens in one person before the other becomes aware of it. The connection must be opened for it to go both ways."

Credence nodded. "I see." He didn't really. He didn't know why Mr Graves was telling him about something that only concerned magical people, though he did think it sounded nice to be so closely connected to someone. It sounded a lot like love.

"Do you really see?" Mr Graves asked. Credence's expression told him his answer. "Credence, have you ever made anything strange happen?"

Credence averted his eyes. He didn't want to talk about that. He'd learned to hide it, because he knew Ma would kill him if she knew.

"Credence. It's important."

"Why?" Credence asked, distressed. Did Mr Graves seek him out to punish him for breaking things when he hadn't mean to, or for keeping things in the air a little longer when they should be falling down, or for making them fall sooner - like that time Modesty was nearly hit by a book Ma had thrown at her.

"Credence, don't worry. It's fine if you have." Mr Graves took his empty cup and hot dog wrapper from him and set them down beside him. "It simply means that you can do magic."

Credence stared at him, open-mouthed. "I can't."

"I think you can. And I have a feeling you're rather good at it." Mr Graves held out his hand, palm up, between them. "Let me show you. Focus on my palm, let your hand hover above it. Yes, like that."

Credence's heart was thundering so loudly, he thought Mr Graves must be able to hear it. He couldn't imagine what was supposed to happen, but he did as he was told. He held his hand, palm down, above Mr Graves' at a slight distance.

"Now, focus on my palm and imagine a bright light there, and say 'Lumos'."

Credence cleared his throat. He stared at the open palm and said the word, "Lumos." And then he nearly jumped out of his skin, because the moment he finished speaking, a bright, perfect ball of light formed between their open hands, lying in Mr Graves' palm like a glowing snowball.

"Yes, Credence, yes that's perfect!" Mr Graves exclaimed. He sounded so happy that Credence lost focus and stared at him instead. And the light in Mr Graves' palm fizzled out. The light in Mr Graves' eyes, however, remained. 

"Did I really do that?"

"Yes, you did, sweetheart."

Credence smiled. The endearment made him feel warm all over. "Mr Graves, does that mean... you and I..." he started, having no idea how to continue and deathly afraid Mr Graves would just laugh at him for making crazy assumptions.

"Yes, Credence." Mr Graves took his still hovering hand in his, and then took the other too. "I started to feel the bond when I woke up today, and I've spent most of the day looking for you. There was nothing to go on but following it to where it was strongest. When I finally got close to you, you were surrounded by a crowd, and I heard those bastards talking about you. Then I briefly lost sight of you, until I felt your fear, and I came to you. I'm sorry I couldn't get there before that man got his hand on you; you must have felt too detached from everything until then."

Credence swayed on the pillar like a plant in a draught. He felt overwhelmed. Not only was he a witch... wizard, he supposed, but Mr Graves - kind, wonderful Mr Graves - was bonded to him. He remembered what else Mr Graves had said. "This connection, my side of it..."

"Do you want me to open it?" Mr Graves asked. "It might be a bit much after everything today. I should warn you that once I found you earlier, I--"

"Please. I want to feel what you feel too." Credence was suddenly horrified. "Mr Graves, do you know what's been in my head all this time?" He went bright red, considering all the thoughts he'd been having about Mr Graves.

Mr Graves smiled. "Our bond is not telepathic, Credence. I can't read your thoughts, not by way of our bond, nor by Legilimency - which I'm not very good at." His smile turned into a smirk. "But I certainly know how you're feeling."

"Oh, no!" Credence was horror struck, but Mr Graves only chuckled.

"Don't be too worried. You'll see what I mean in a moment." With those cryptic words, Mr Graves released Credence's left hand, and placed his own right hand on Credence's chest, right above his heart. "Vinculum revelare," he murmured softly.

Credence gasped when his chest felt suddenly warm and light, as if the sun was rising inside him. He clutched his own hand to his chest, covering Mr Graves' in the process, and the contact right over his heart was nothing short of electric. He stared open-mouthed into the eyes gazing at him, and could only return the slow smile. And then they started to float into him, like fairy lights on a string - Mr Graves' feelings wrapped themselves around his heart, little isolated sensations, wants and needs, independent and yet connected by magic. And Mr Graves' feelings for him were the deepest, most intense, most brilliant of all the little lights.

"Mr Graves..." Credence whispered, placing his free hand over the other's heart.

"Percival. Please, darling, call me Percival."

Credence leaned forward. "Will you kiss me, Percival?" He quickly glanced around, but the few people out walking on such a cold day were paying no attention to them.

"We're under a privacy spell," Mr Graves said. "And nothing would give me greater pleasure, Credence." He tilted his face up, and Credence pressed a smile to his lips, sweetly, unsure of the technique but not of his intention. He felt a hot palm on the nape of his neck, drawing him in closer, and the kiss grew more intense. Then there were little licks at his lips - a gentle suggestion to part them, to allow Percival's tongue inside.

Credence whimpered, wondering whether he might fall off his pillar. He decided not to worry, because he knew he would be caught, and held, and cared for. Because this man, whose thoughts were focussed on his care and well-being, would never let him suffer again.

 

THE END

**Author's Note:**

> Follow me on [Tumblr](https://sweetsorcery.tumblr.com/), and we can squee about this and maybe other pairings/fandoms we love. And drop me a message there if you'd like me to follow you back. :)
> 
>    
> Copyright of this fandom, some settings and its characters - J.K. Rowling, Warner Brothers, and possibly other right holders. This story is written purely for the entertainment of fans, and no profit is made.


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